Orfeo

by M. J. Lawless

  With a terse nod of his head, Orfeo slipped behind Papa before the older man could change his mind. The red glow of Hades surrounded him as he pushed past the doorway.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ardyce could almost feel nothing now. Almost.

  There remained, of course, the rush of numbing pleasure when Earl injected her, but even that was no longer the ecstasy it had once been. Her body simply demanded it. She dreaded the moments when a fix would dissipate, the opiate intoxication that, she remembered all too well, could become a hunger, a clawing anxiety and then a vivid pain. She did not need to worry, however; for his own reasons Earl had decided to maintain her in a permanent high.

  He had given her another fix before dressing her in some rich, white, satin dress that left her arms bare and was cut deeply to her full cleavage. “Everyone has to see how beautiful you are. Everyone has to see that you’re mine,” he had told her as he brought her out of the bedroom where she had been a prisoner for... how long was it? She no longer knew, nor did she care. So long as she received the drug, nothing else mattered any more.

  She remembered other sensations. Sometimes when he lay on her there was a movement inside her which she was dimly aware of, but that was easy enough to escape by retreating even further from him. He did not hurt her, of that she was certain, but increasingly she worried less about that as well. She was dying slowly and all she could do was respond with an inner, apathetic shrug.

  Yet although she was dying, she unfortunately was not dead yet. Sometimes she would remember him and the fact that, if he was still alive, she would never see him again. She would remember the flowering of a pleasure more vivid, more intense—more alive—than the opiate haze that filled her veins, and sometimes she would cry. Then she would demand more heroin, hold out her arm with a fixed expression until Earl satisfied the only empty desire she now had.

  The charm he had given her when they last met still hung around her neck. Most of the time she forgot what it was and would feel it numbly in her fingers, the rough nails and bones coarse against her skin. When she recalled what it was and who had given it to her, she often wished to rip it from her neck and throw it away with all the pain it brought, but instead her hands would clench about it, refusing to obey her will. She had held it so tightly once that she had cut herself, and she stared at the blood in the palm of her hand for an hour until Earl had come and cleaned it up.

  He had left nothing else sharp in the room, and the black iron nails were not enough to stab herself with more effectively. That made her sigh but she resigned herself to her fate.

  There was one other sense that had not left her. At night, Hades throbbed and pulsed with a distant beat, a beat that would have driven her mad if her veins hadn’t been filled with dead nirvana. It was a creature, she knew, a terrible, living thing that slept during the day and came to life at night, a behemoth of darkness and chaos, a darkness very different to the beautiful, black man she vaguely remembered who had brought her flowers of song during evenings that seemed an age away. What was his name? Why couldn’t she remember? Shifting on a chair in Earl’s private apartment, she struggled for a moment, fighting to bring his name back from the cloudiness in her mind. Instead, it was driven from consciousness by that relentless, persistent beat.

  “She is awake then.” It was the woman who spoke, the one with tattoos covering her face and arm. Her face was ugly in its way, not because of the strong, even noble Hispanic features, but because she always seemed to hold it in a sneer. The darker swirls across her skin, however, were beautiful and Ardyce stared at them in fascination. Snake, that was her name. Why could she remember this woman’s name but not that of the young man who had made her dream with song?

  “Of course she’s awake,” Earl said a little harshly.

  Snake realized just then how intently Ardyce was regarding her and fiddled unconsciously with one of the several knives that lay at her belt. The movement drew Ardyce’s eyes and she turned her gaze instead to the bright, tempting steel.

  The other figure in the room, a huge hulk of a man, made a strange noise and it took her a few moments to realize that he was laughing. She had a vague recollection that she had once been afraid of him. Who was he again? Bull, or something. No, that wasn’t right. Horse, yes. Horse. She’d been afraid of him, but no longer. Papa, the one who had scared her most of all, had told her that Horse had another name for her. Little moth. She didn’t know what it meant but for some strange reason it made her feel safer. Papa wasn’t here. Was that important? She didn’t know. Thinking made her too tired and all she wanted to do was return to the bedroom and lie down.

  Snake glared at the giant before turning once more to Earl who came and sat beside Ardyce, a glass of some amber-colored liquid in his gloved hand. The gloves. They were important, and for a moment she wondered why. Ah, yes, that was it. Fire. There had been a fire. Why was that significant? She didn’t know.

  “Why the fuck are we here, boss?” Snake asked. “There’s almost nobody in the city anymore. Anyone with any sense is getting out of New Orleans.”

  “All the better for us,” Earl snarled. “This place will be ours when that bit of a hurricane has passed.”

  This did not seem to placate Snake who wandered around the room in agitation before coming to sit down beside Ardyce. “I don’t know, boss. It’s looking like it’s gonna be really fucking bad.”

  At this, Earl drained his glass and sneered at her. “Are you going yellow on me as well? Fuck! This city is being handed to us on a fucking plate, and all you can think of doing is running off with the other dogs. Well, go on! Fuck off! Join the dogs. All the more for me and my queen.” With this, he placed one gloved hand on Ardyce’s arm. She barely felt the pressure and looked down at it, pondering the strangeness of black leather on her white skin. Yes, she was a queen, the queen of the damned, condemned to remain here forever.

  Something made her frown and she struggled to understand what it was as Snake and Earl continued talking, Horse watching without making a sound. What was it? Was it Earl touching her? No, she no longer cared about that. Was it the dangerous woman with her beautiful tattoos and the shining allure of her glittering knives? That wasn’t it. She fought the drowsy, cloying opiate dreams tugging softly at her mind and at last she realized what was different.

  “It’s stopped,” she said quietly.

  Snake stared at her like she had finally gone mad, and even Earl shot her a quizzical glance, moving his eyes away so as not to betray the fear she often saw there when he looked at her.

  “It’s stopped,” she repeated. “The heart of Hades... it’s stopped beating.”

  Now all three of them stared at her for a few moments until Earl lifted his head, staring at the ceiling and walls in confusion.

  “She’s right,” he said at last. “Who said they could stop fucking playing music?”

  Angrily, he stood and went to the intercom system, switching it on and preparing to shout at the manager. At the sound that came through, however, he stared at the grille in amazement and horror.

  A voice filled the room. Even through the distortion of the tannoy it was deep and soothing, at the same time full of melancholy that twisted Ardyce’s dry and dying heart in her breast. She had heard that voice before and, with a quickening motion of her blood, realized that she had never forgotten it. The hypnotic drowsiness of her veins had almost smothered it but it was merely sleeping inside her, waiting to be revived.

  “Orfeo,” she whispered. She had remembered his name.

  Glaring at her, Earl snapped off the intercom and crossed toward the window, gasping in amazement at what he saw below in the pit of Hades. Joy reviving inside her, Ardyce began to rise but Snake placed a strong arm on her, forcing her back down into the seat. With a grimace, Ardyce let her arms drop down, catching sight of one of the shining knives that rested against Snake’s seat. Her agitation grew into another kind, however, as her heart began to beat more quickly. Orfeo! Orfeo was here
!

  “Get him up here now!” Earl snarled at Snake and Horse. “And find out what that cocksucker Papa’s up to as well.”

  As Snake relinquished her grip on Ardyce, the young woman started to stand again. This time, however, it was Earl who came across and pushed her back into the seat as his two loa left the room. His grip was firm but gentle and his face was twisted in misery and hate.

  “This ends here, tonight,” he told her before turning his back on her. With her hand resting on the seat beside her where Snake had been only seconds before, her fingers felt something cold and hard.

  They did not hurt him, this time, not that Orfeo believed he would have felt anything. His body was numb, prepared to die.

  There had been a mere handful of people in the nightclub, dancing soullessly to a relentless beat, letting the pounding noise that filled their minds force them deeper into a soporific trance. As he climbed onto the stage, he stared at them in despair. But for Papa, Earl and his other loa were nowhere to be seen, nor was Ardyce. Glancing upwards, he saw a large window lit up, like the control chamber of some strange ship hanging in the vast darkness of Hades. Recalling the plans that he and Baptiste had been shown, he guessed that this was Earl’s private apartment.

  He looked down on the few dozen people moving listlessly in the flashing darkness. Didn’t they know the end was coming? Didn’t they care? Not that any of it mattered, he realized now. He had no idea what he was doing here. Ardyce couldn’t be saved, and he understood the futility of his purpose now: he had come to sing to her one last time but nothing could be heard above the dissonant noise that boomed from mighty speakers hanging over the dance floor.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a pale suit moving toward the DJ. It was Papa. Orfeo watched him, as listless as any of the other occupants of this shadow land. The two men across the dance floor spoke for a while and then, to Orfeo’s surprise, the music stopped.

  The people moving below him looked around in confusion. Some began to complain, shouting to the DJ, while a few others stared at him as though noticing him for the first time.

  Silence. That was all that he needed, a few moments of the emptiness of space, of the air that he drew into his lungs. He would fill it, he would fill it with all his soul, and perhaps—just perhaps—his song would rise and reach her, a prisoner in the rooms above. She would hear it and know that he had not forgotten her.

  He sang as never before. His voice, almost reduced to nothing mere hours before, now filled that empty, cavernous space, a deep, rich rumble that rose and fell in a melody so simple and yet so sweet that it made the people there stare at him in amazement. He sang for what would be the last time. After this, let everything end in disaster and confusion.

  In the face of that disaster, he sang of love—and of loss. His own eyes squeezed shut as he compressed every note, every sound and harmony he could muster from his poor, damaged body. Everything poured into his song and, when he opened his eyes at last, he saw them—Horse and Snake—coming for him, climbing the stage. Horse was as impassive as ever, but Snake’s face was knotted in fury.

  She would have knifed him there and then had not Papa intervened. She shouted at the older man furiously, but he simply stared her down and she looked at him sullenly. And so they had taken him, not unwillingly, through a door and along corridors, climbing stairs until at last they came to Earl’s lair.

  When the door opened and Orfeo was pushed through by Snake, his heart caught in his mouth. He barely noticed Earl or any of the other surroundings, and he paid no attention to the three loa as they followed in behind him.

  She was beautiful. Even now, with a deathly pallor like a robe upon her body, she was more beautiful than he could possibly believe. Her hair, once so lustrous and red, shone with a soft, coppery glow that made it appear ethereal. Her eyes came to life as she saw him, and he stared at her with compassion as a faint, rosy tinge began to color her cheeks. Dressed in white, the smooth satin folds of her garment were not yet as smooth as her skin, and her green eyes glittered with tears as she saw him.

  “Orfeo!” she called out, standing up to rush toward him.

  Earl, however, caught her arm and pulled her back roughly. At this, Orfeo gave a yell and coiled his body to launch forward. Before he could do so, however, a taut, muscled arm swept across him, Snake’s fist connecting with his face and making his head jerk sideways.

  “Not so fast, cocksucker!” Earl snarled. “There’s only one reason you’re here, and that’s so we can finish this.”

  Beckoning with his head, Earl summoned Horse to come and prevent Ardyce rushing to her lover and then he stalked forward. Standing mere inches from Orfeo, he glared at the singer, the white skin of his face twitching.

  “She’s mine, do you hear?” he growled quietly. “She’s always been mine. I suppose I should thank you, in a way. You were the ransom that had to be paid to get her back, but I don’t need you anymore. Understand, nigger?”

  Orfeo said nothing. Earl’s words were just noise. Instead, he stared past the other man’s shoulder, listening to the silent music that poured from Ardyce, unspoken longings passing between them.

  “I said, do you understand, nigger?” Earl grabbed Orfeo, forcing him to stare back. “She’s mine, just as tomorrow New Orleans will be mine. You—you’re nothing. You won’t even see tomorrow.”

  He glanced back at Ardyce and, for a second, Orfeo noticed the fear in his eyes, as though he was uncertain of her reaction. Opening his mouth to speak, before he could say anything he was interrupted by Ardyce.

  “Let him sing,” she said.

  Frowning, Earl was thrown off by this. “Why the fuck should I do that?” he asked. Returning his attention to Orfeo, he opened his mouth to utter some order to his loa, but now it was his turn to be interrupted.

  “Let him sing.” There was ice in her voice, something cold and imperious. She was a Dubois, and for generations the Dubois had commanded their slaves. Earl’s mouth closed and gaped again like a fish thrown onto land.

  “Sure.” This time it was Papa who spoke, somewhere from behind Orfeo. “Let the boy sing. What harm can it do?”

  Glaring furiously at the other man, Earl released Orfeo and took a step backwards. He shrugged. “What harm... yes, what harm?” He appeared confused and, to Orfeo’s surprise, he gazed longingly at Ardyce. She, however, kept her calm eyes fixed on her lover.

  “Let him sing,” Earl mumbled miserably. “Then get take him out of here and kill him.”

  Snake and Horse moved backwards, keeping their eyes on Orfeo in case he made a sudden move. He, however, was still. His heart was beating with fear and adrenaline, but as he took deep breaths so his composure returned. Ardyce did not stir either, and it was with pleasure that Orfeo saw color deepening in her cheeks, her eyes shining brightly.

  Everything was silent for seconds that seemed to last an age. Only then did Orfeo call up his voice, the voice that came from so deep within him it seemed to exist beyond his body. He did not close his eyes: if these were to be his last moments on earth, then he would spend them gazing at the object of his love.

  “True love lives beloved’s pleasure,

  lasts through winter and through summer;

  false love sees itself the measure,

  wearily dies in a single night.

  True love is gentle, simple, faithful,

  false love demanding, vainful, slight.

  That night I came into your room

  I left the sky and came to you,

  falling stars dispelling gloom

  and your green eyes my soul’s true doom.

  Your hand glanced up! You spied desire

  upon a shooting star,

  and in your arms beneath that fire

  I understood just who you are,

  and in my heart the love I knew

  was fixed that moment, forever true.”

  He ceased and the room was silent once again. He did not move his eyes from Ardyce,
did not see Earl’s face twitching with anger and horror, struggling with a pity he had never felt before. He could not see the other loa behind him, but he realized that they were silent, unable to speak. All he could do was watch Ardyce, her hair like a pale flame, her eyes as green as the sea.

  “Take him,” croaked Earl at last. “Take this fucking cocksucker and... fucking cut his tongue out before you kill him.” His voice struggled with emotion, but Orfeo did not resist as hands were placed on his hand, turning him around and away from Ardyce for the last time.

  “Earl!” She did not shout, but her voice was so clear, so pure, that it rang about the room as though it were a single note. Orfeo felt hands weakening on him and he heard Snake gasp, “The fucking bitch!” He turned around.

  Ardyce stood before her chair, pulling at her dress with one hand so that her soft breast was exposed. In her other hand, she held a knife, the blade cruel and sharp, pressed into her flesh so that the skin reddened beneath its tip.

  “Let him go, Earl,” she said at last.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Earl began to remonstrate, moving forward. As he took a step forward, however, she pressed the blade in deeper and a single drop of blood appeared on her pale skin.

  “I’ll do it,” she told him. “I’ll do it without a moment’s hesitation if you take another step toward me. That goes for the rest of you!” Her eyes were glittering fiercely as she glared at them all around the room.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Orfeo heard Papa mutter behind him quietly.

  “Let him go. Let us go. I’m not yours, Earl. I never was—not in the same way I belong to him. Let us go. You can’t have me. It doesn’t matter what you do to me. You can’t have me, and you know that.”

  Orfeo’s attention shifted toward Earl, who stared at the object of his obsession with such misery that, for a few seconds, the singer felt pity in his breast. Earl began to open his mouth, wordlessly seeking for anything that he could say to express what he felt for Ardyce, to convince her otherwise. When she looked at him, however, her eyes were so cruel, so empty of love, that he seemed to crumble and wither before her gaze.